A Thousand Years
by Starborn Angel
Summary: Draco knew it was her. It was a different lifetime now, a different place, but when he looked at her, he knew it was her. The one he's been searching for. The one who haunted him for the last thousand years. Dramione/DMHG.
1. Prologue

**A Thousand Years**

By: Starborn Angel

**Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling owns the world of Harry Potter. Ann Brashares inspired this story, it was loosely based on hers.

**A/N:** Please bear with me, this is my first Dramione fic. A huge thank you to independentwriter-137, my beta.

**Prologue**

_What are you living for?  
>Everybody needs something<br>Fighting for something  
>I know what you're fighting for…<br>Cause we all… want love_

In his first year, Draco Malfoy elegantly sat down the familiar boat that would take them to Hogwarts for his 'first' day. He wrinkled his nose. "Don't they ever clean these things? Surely we pay enough to have them cleaned," he complained. He saw his classmates roll their eyes and the other Purebloods wrinkle their noses as well. Then, feigning an air of superiority, he jutted his chin up and smirked.

He's coming home.

As Draco strutted down the hallways of Hogwarts, he was not surprised that he knew every turn, every hiding place in the ancient castle. He knew the perks to opening the Room of Requirement. He even knew about the Chamber of Secrets that was located under Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He even knew how the wailing ghost died.

How he knew this, at eleven years old, baffled him. But he was used to it. He estimated that this must be his third time to be enrolled as a student in Hogwarts in his entire existence. Draco smirked at the thought. Another lifetime of showing off what he knew. But he had to slow it down, or it would raise suspicion. People like him are rare, but they are around, nevertheless. It's not hard to spot someone like him, he thought.

The girls near the entrance to the Great Hall were whispering and smiling when he passed by. He hid a smug smile. _That's what it takes to be a Malfoy, _his father had said. He still didn't understand what it really takes to be a Malfoy, and how important their family was to this society, but he didn't really mind it much. He was young, and he would take what he can get from this life.

"When you go to Hogwarts, you'll know how important the Malfoy name is," Lucius had told him viciously.

He knew that he was lucky to be born in such a prestigious family in England. Last time, he lived under the bridge for 30 long years with his family in Turkey, until he got stabbed to death by his elder lunatic cousin, who was now incidentally his young uncle Rabastan Lestrange. Now that he thought of it, his deranged cousin came back to life more quickly than he did, making him older than he was. Not surprisingly, he was still a lunatic. Also, the animosity between them hadn't ceased. Draco still hated Rabastan with a vengeance, like the earlier version of him; Adil hated his cousin, Faruk.

If only his uncle knew. Draco shuddered at the thought. He lived as a muggle back then, and he was more than relieved that he could feel magic coursing through his veins again. Merlin knew he hated living as a muggle and anything but a pureblood. Half-bloods and muggle-borns have bad if not worst reputation in the wizarding community.

They say that when you are attached to the place - or even the people - you would be born again close to that place or person. Now, being alive again in England, was great. He had missed his home - it was his first birthplace, after all - and he hadn't lived here for over a century.

Lucius and Narcissa were a bit cold as parents, but they would do for now. He always thought, _I'd get another pair of parents soon enough. _This was usually why he didn't want to get attached to people much, because it always didn't end well.

And how he knew that it wouldn't end well, he knew perfectly well.

They would always forget him, but he would _always _remember them.

You see, Draco has the Memory. He can remember - though not perfectly - everything that has happened since his first life.

And his most vivid memory was her.

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><p><strong>AN:** *Deep breath* Well, how did that one go? So... Yeah. Please, let me know if I should continue. :3 Song is from Rihanna's We All Want Love. Happy holidays x


	2. Draco's Return

**A Thousand Years**

by: Starborn Angel

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling owns all the characters and Ann Brashares inspired the creation of this story.

**A/N: **I would like to thank my first reviewers and give them a HUGE virtual hug! Your reviews literally made me jump up and down. Thank you, thank you! I would also like to thank my lovely beta, independentwriter-137.

Now, on to the chapter.

**Chapter One: Draco's Return**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1991**

_Lights will guide you home,_

_And ignite your bones,_

_And I will try to fix you_

The first time Draco stepped into Hogwarts - the very first time being about a thousand years ago, when the school has just opened and the very famous founders roamed the very hallways he walked now. All the founders were warm and welcoming - except Salazar Slytherin. He had an aristocratic feel to him, like he was better than everyone else, a demeanour just like his father in this lifetime. Just like what he was teaching Draco now.

It was the time when you can approach them for questions regarding your Potions homework. It was that era. Inter-house enmity was almost non-existent. Or so he thought. Hogwarts has a long history, and obviously these include rivalries. Draco remembered that it was rather pleasant at first, but when Slytherin said that only Purebloods should be allowed in the magical school, all hell broke loose. The founders had a huge argument that lead to the house enmity that awaits them now after their sorting.

During that time, he was born in a wealthy British family, and that's where he first became himself.

He always kept the name Draco close to his heart, because it was the first name that his mother gave him. His first mother was an aristocratic woman back in the 9th century. She had an arranged marriage with his father, a duke. As a child, he did not have much attention and warmth from his parents, so he ended up quite the trouble maker.

In his past lives, as early as four years old, he names himself Draco. In his mind, he calls himself Draco. He even tells his parents to call him Draco, but he never tells them why. Some of them flat out refused, like his merchant parents in his last life in Turkey, who named him Adil. But the other parents he had, they would sway and let him have what he wants. He did not dare explain his attachment to his name.

They would never understand.

His soul was very old, he could tell, almost as old as Hogwarts. At three years old, the dreams of his old lives would start and he would wake up crying into the night. He remembered that in his first life in England, he was killed for saving a girl from a gunshot. At three years old, he was first awakened to his many memories. At his first few lives, he wakes up confused and scared. But as he lived longer and more lives, he understood. It was all part of the cycle. Live, remember, die. That's the gist of his usually miserable life.

In this world, most of the people did not know that they had past lives, because when they die, they don't bring their memories with them. But Draco was different, since he has the Memory. Having the memory meant even if you die, you keep your memories with you to your next life. He isn't any different from a normal person - of course, he was still human and still had the same parts - but he was unique because he carried the memories of all his lives before the current one.

It was an overwhelming thought. He was born in almost all the continents of the world, except Antarctica. Draco let out a satisfied sigh. Good. It's so bloody cold there he thinks he would freeze his rather delicate arse off. His appearance differs too, in each life. Thank Merlin he hasn't been reincarnated into a woman. Not yet. He shuddered internally.

The memories come back in pieces as he grows older. In his usual _cycle _as he'd like to call it, he'd master his full memories at the age of 21. Ten years to go, he huffed.

In his life in China some centuries back, he died at 12 years old from cholera. He didn't even master his full memories then. Draco was luckier to live in such a good condition now.

It's a bit confusing when you're younger, but now that he's getting some parts of his memories - the ones that are highlighted, the important ones - he guessed that he would have to suck it up until he was of age.

Another perk of this mysterious blessing - or curse, he could not determine - was that he could recognize another soul from his past life. Just like how he recognized that his uncle Rabastan was the one who killed him in his last life in Turkey. And now they were both born again, in the same family, no less.

Lucius, he can tell, was an old soul, while Narcissa was a new one. His old friend, Daniel, who also had the Memory - can also recognize souls. That's the beauty of it, he told him once almost 50 years ago. Daniel always seemed to find Draco when he needs to tell him something important. How he does that, Draco didn't know. Daniel is older than him by centuries.

After all, remembering everything from all your past lives was not a difficult thing to digest at such a young age, right?

"MALFOY, DRACO!"

Draco's head was bowed and he was so lost in thought that when his name was called by Professor McGonagall for the house sorting, his neck shot up in an alarmingly fast rate. He plastered a smirk on his face as his classmates watched in awe. The Malfoy heir sat with pride on the small stool in front of the Great Hall, and the moment the battered Sorting Hat touched his platinum blond head, it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Cheers erupted from his house's table as he walked towards his new housemates. He took a deep, satisfied breath as he sat down at the Slytherin table, receiving happy pats on the back. Thank Merlin that he's never been sorted any of the three houses. He remained strictly a Slytherin, and he intended on doing so.

As the Deputy Headmistress called the names of his classmates, Draco's mind once again floated away from the great walls of Hogwarts to delve deeper in his memory.

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><p><strong>AN: **I hope this answered all of your questions in the reviews! Thank you again! Lyrics from Coldplay's Fix You. I'd love to know what you thought of the chapter, so please, review, review, review! They make me update faster. :P


	3. At First Glance

**A Thousand Years**

by:** Starborn Angel**

**Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling owns all the characters and Ann Brashares inspired the creation of this story.

**A/N: **Special thanks to my beta, independentwriter-137. And oh, MERRY CHRISTMAS! Cookies to all my reviewers for the last chapter. Thank you for those who subscribed to me and this story. And… here we go.

**Chapter Two: At First Glance**

**London****, England****, 993**

_Nightmare, dark skies, open your eyes_

_And run to me like you never did before_

_Raindrops falling, hear you calling_

_And I run to you like I never did before_

My first life was set in 9th centuryEngland. I am quite certain that it is my first since I do not remember any lives before it.

Who knows? Maybe something happened in those missing years. Maybe something made me the way I am, memory and all.

I was proud to be a wizard at that time. I knew I was greater than muggles. I knew that wizards led easier lives than most men. I was arrogant, hard-headed, rather spiteful, and most of all, spoiled. I got into trouble more times than I would dare to count, and I'm proud of it. At least I did something worthwhile in my life.

I was called Draco Bendrix in this life. My hair was coloured auburn. My eyes were dark green, and I was tall and built. I was one of the heirs of our father's candle legacy. Candles were a luxury not everyone can afford, but the upperclassmen like us called it a necessity. Having already finished my education in Hogwarts two years  
>ago, I was now applying for the position of Charms master in the school. I relished the thought. I would have an easy life, create charms to greatly improve magical life, marry a beautiful woman that would bear me many children, grow old and die happy.<p>

Or so I thought.

I was walking around our twenty three acre estate when I first heard the voice that would haunt me for the next thousand years.

"Get your filthy hands off me!" She screeched and tried to kick the man who was currently harassing her. The petite woman with flowing raven hair tugged her arm away from the man and glared at him in a murderous way. "I will NOT marry you, Philippe. Get that inside your thick skull," she snapped.

Philippe on the other hand, was still slightly leering and just laughed at her. "Whatever makes you sleep at night, my love," he smiled evilly.

_Muggles._ Typical - another arranged marriage. I shook my head. I should not be paying attention to these useless conversations. They would still get married in the end, I knew. It is our way.

As I turned away from them, I suddenly heard her scream in pain. I glanced back in concern just to see that he had punched her.

I saw red. I launched myself into that scum and attacked. The young woman's jaw dropped as she saw me defend her against her abusive fiancé.

I don't really want to be anyone's hero, because I have extreme belief for self-preservation. Even though she was just a muggle - a woman is still a woman and they should not be harmed in any way. I would not stand for it.

Three punches knocked him out. I cracked my swollen knuckles and finally, when I can think straight again, I looked at her. She swallowed nervously. I seem to scare her.

_Good._

I raised a curious eyebrow at her and turned to leave. The girl grabbed my arm and said, "Why did you do that?"

_Oh Merlin, I always get the thick ones._

"Obviously he was treating you like shite, missus. I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour in my property," I told her.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears and her hair was dishevelled, but she looked radiant. She nodded and let me go.

I didn't even know her name.

After a fortnight, I saw her again. The bint won't get out of my head.

She was to be wed today. The ceremonies in this time usually happened in the gardens. So I went, not completely sure on what I'm planning to do once I got there.

_I just want to know her name and then I'll leave,_ I told myself repeatedly. And out of stubbornness, I believed that this is the only reason why I'm going to that blasted wedding.

I told myself that I won't think of the reason why. So I didn't.

As I approached the garden's gates I saw their names already plastered in a nearby tree.

"Philippe Montgomery and Margoux Pierce's Wedding Ceremony."

Margoux Pierce.

The tent was already set up and the guests were slowly streaming in. I swallowed. Should I go in or not? I already knew her name, so what was the point of going in?

What on earth will I do there? Gawk while I let her get through with the biggest mistake of her miserable life?

I don't even know why I care. I shouldn't. I didn't even know the girl. But she had this... sadness in her. I wouldn't want her to be trapped in such an abusive marriage.

Against my better judgment, I neared the small tent just as the wedding march started. I was trying to keep a low profile, so I hid behind the shadows of the tent. The sun was setting over the horizon and as I finally looked at the entrance of the tent, I saw her again.

Her face was covered by a veil but you could see her crying beneath it. Maybe she sensed that she was being watched, as she lifted her gaze and it landed on me.

My eyes widened instinctively at the sight of her. How could such filth hold such beauty? She was absolutely breath-taking. Her raven hair flowed down her toned back and her dress reached the floor. She had a flower tucked in her ear. Her round baby blue eyes were rimmed with red as her tears continued to flow. I just stared back, and I tried to look indifferent. But I knew that my eyes told her differently.

_Do not do this._

She seemed to be shocked at my expression. She gave me a little nod. I allowed myself a breath of relief, thinking that she understood.

But still she moved to walk inside.

"You have to run," I mouthed frantically.

She just shook her head and gave me a watery smile. "Thank you for trying to rescue me, but alas, I cannot be saved from this fate," she whispered back, still looking at the altar, as if she was in prayer.

Moments later, she left me alone in the dark; walking in the aisle just in time to the music.

It filled my heart with dread.

My first impulse was to drag her out of this hellhole and run away.

But why would I do that?

I didn't even know her.

Two months later, Margoux Montgomery neé Pierce was found dead in her home.

Philippe Montgomery was charged for stabbing his wife in a fit of jealousy. He was to be executed in the next week.

I went to her burial after all the relatives had long gone. It was at the same time as her wedding weeks ago, the beautiful sunset sending sprays of pink and orange light into the sky.

I knelt at the only thing left of her - her grave.

"Why didn't you listen?" I whispered to her, feeling desperate.

But there was no saving her now.

I offered her a white rose, and left with a scarred heart.

**A/N: **Hope you liked that chapter, cause I surely enjoyed writing it! Please review. Your comments make me ridiculously happy. Lyrics from 'Running on Empty' - Chrishan and Auburn.


	4. Journeys End in Lovers' Meeting

**A Thousand Years**

by:** Starborn Angel**

**Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling owns all the characters and Ann Brashares inspired the creation of this story.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who subscribed to the story - but I _refuse_ to update if you just sit there and stare. **_I plead (command) you to review. Or else I won't update_.**

I may have not mentioned that I _am_ a Slytherin - those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. ;) Thanks, independentwriter-137 for the beta work! On to the chapter. :)

**Chapter Three: Journeys End in Lovers' Meeting**

**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1991**

_Time stands still,_

_Beauty I know she is; I will be brave,_

_I will not let anything take away what's standing in front of me_

_Every breath, every hour has come to this_

Hermione Granger has just had the best night of her life.

Well, the second best night, she reminded herself. The best night was when she received her Hogwarts letter, and now, that she's been sorted into Gryffindor. That Sorting Hat took its time in choosing her house. After sitting in that rickety stool for more than four minutes, she let out a huff of relief when it bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

She's read about Gryffindor house, _of course._'Where the brave dwell at heart.' Gryffindor to the end, all that jazz. Hermione was quite proud to be part of such an honorable house that her bushy hair bobbed happily on her way to her seat.

In the next table, Slytherin house, the students were pointing at her direction and whispering. She blushed furiously._ Did she have something on her face?_ She grimaced. But then, gathering her courage, she narrowed her eyes at them and showed them that she was not afraid of them. The students, including a pug-faced black haired girl, sneered at her. She rolled her eyes. She would _not_ be intimidated by such immaturity on her first day as a witch.

As the feast began, she felt someone looking at her. Hermione raised her bushy head up and saw mercurial eyes staring daggers at her. Her eyes widened in confusion. Why would he look at her with such hostility? What did she ever do to him? She swallowed her intimidation and glared back. But then, the staring contest seemed to be too much to bear as he lowered his gaze. She smiled smugly. _How dare he! I sure showed him_, she thought.

He didn't even know her.

* * *

><p>After the feast, the students were sent up to their dormitories at once. Draco, on the other hand, went to the Black Lake to think. He knew he was in for another sleepless night.<p>

Is it possible that it was her?

Is it… it couldn't possibly be her. She was gone in this world too long - more than thirty years. He knew, he _searched _for her since their very first encounter. And now… here? In _this_ life, where his family had taught him to hate people of her kind? In this life where he would most likely get killed - there's a war brewing, he knew- for associating with the likes of her? And in the event that they _do _get involved, he knew that she was going to go down with him because of his father's wrath.

Merlin's beard, life sure screwed him over this time.

Draco was not afraid of Lucius, no. He was afraid for Margoux. If she remembers who she was, that may not be the easiest way for her to live in this life. Heaven knows what his father and his deranged friends could do to her.

But he desperately, desperately wanted to let her know who he was to her in all their past lives.

_I just want her to know me._

He paced the rocky shore of the lake until his feet went numb and the chilly air was too much to handle. He had to think of some way to keep her safe. He couldn't save her before - but now he would. Draco went back to the castle undetected, but he carried with him a heavy heart.

* * *

><p>Hermione felt shunned by the rest of her classmates. Most of them had made friends already, but what about her? She sighed. <em>I'm still in the adjusting phase. It'll be fine soon,<em>she assured herself. She loved Hogwarts, she really did; she wasn't sure if she loved the people, though.

The bushy haired girl tossed and turned in her bed. _Good Merlin, at least let me get some sleep, _she thought, feeling irritated. She calmed her thoughts for a while - yes, a long while - but finally her mind went blank and her eyelids started feeling heavy. Hermione rolled on to her side and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>In her dream, she was getting married. Hermione knew this because she was clutching a rather nice bouquet of flowers and was wearing a floor-length white dress. She turned her head slightly to the right to admire herself and froze on the spot, as she saw that she had black hair. Her hair was raven and it was <em>straight. <em>She tried to lift her right arm to feel her own hair - but her arm won't work. Hermione guessed that she was meant to watch, not feel; like being in a pensive. It was not like a dream at all - it was just like a memory.

The bride - Hermione - was frowning. If she was getting married, why isn't she happy? _This is not the way it should be, _she told her bride-self. But her bride-self shook her head, still looking at the altar.

_What? Don't be silly! You can hear me, right? Then listen! You don't have to do this! Don't! _She told herself frantically, feeling like an over enthused conscience. She didn't see the way the bride's baby blue eyes glittered with tears.

Hermione shifted her focus on her bride-self's surroundings. It was a garden wedding; with the huge tent in the center for the vows and surrounding it, the reception. The bride's lips - her lips - seem to be moving. She seems to be talking to someone else. Her bride-self looks like she was in prayer - she was facing the altar - but she sensed someone else's presence and looked to her right.

There was a tall man leaning near the entrance of the garden's tent. He was looking at her with an intensity of a thousand suns. It felt like that to her. She felt like taking his hand and running away. But her body won't move, so she just nodded at him to acknowledge his presence. Hermione knew this man - at least the bride did. She felt like weeping.

"You have to run," the man whispered, his dark green eyes still piercing her. And she wanted to do so, very badly; but she could not, and would not. She knew this, so she just shook her head.

"Thank you for trying to rescue me, but alas, I cannot be saved from this fate," her bride-self replied, slightly smiling through her tears. Hermione took a deep breath and went into the church.

* * *

><p>Hermione woke up with a start. She counted to twenty to calm her breathing. <em>What was that, Hermione? You're ELEVEN years old and you dream of a wedding? <em>She scolded herself.

It felt so real - it felt like she was dragged back into time. But it couldn't be her. She was Hermione Granger. She had bushy brown hair instead of flowing raven. She was not as elegant as the girl in her dream, and she certainly did not have a wizard who cared for her welfare as the girl in her dream did.

She shook her head in a futile attempt of clearing it. It's not real, it's not real. Focus, Hermione.

She would never forget those piercing dark green eyes.

_It's not real._

Deciding that she's had enough of her own fantasies, she knew that the only thing that could put her at ease was a good book.

* * *

><p>She wasn't much of a rule breaker, but as she went outside her dormitory after curfew to go the library, she had no regrets. She didn't light her wand - she was afraid that Filch might see her. Hermione braided her bushy brown hair down her back so she would be unrecognizable at first glance. She was wearing her flannel green flannel pajamas and her favorite worn out fluffy bunny slippers. Her feet made soft thuds on the stone floor as she made her way out the Gryffindor tower.<p>

Hermione was walking quietly along the corridor when she heard the smallest shuffling of feet. She almost gasped out loud. She waited for a few seconds if the sound would return - and she was met with a rather deafening silence. _Probably a rat_, she thought. She resumed walking to the library, hearing only the snores of the portraits on the walls.

The hallway was so dim she could barely see. She positioned her left arm in front her body so that -

"_Ouch! _Watch where you're going," A snarky voice complained furiously.

Hermione panicked. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't see you." She rubbed her forehead with her hand. She had literally collided with him head first.

He groaned. "Doesn't matter," he said again, in a slightly strained voice. "You alright?" He said, touching her upper arm lightly.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. Did he just touch her? The unknown intruder somehow felt her discomfort and removed his hand from her arm. She could feel the tension in the air and apparently, he can feel it too. She felt rather than saw him disappear as he marched off to another direction without another word.

_Who was that? _She thought, moments after he left.

"Odd," she murmured to herself and continued on her way to the library.

* * *

><p><em>What the bloody hell was that? <em>He scolded himself_._

"Fuck," he murmured under his breath. This was the last thing that he needed. The Fates did not side with him tonight. He prayed to all the deities above that she did not recognize him. She must not know that she bumped into Draco Malfoy tonight. It would ruin his plan.

And yes, he knew that it was definitely her.

He could sense it; he could sense her pure soul. Draco knew that in all her lives, she had never taken an innocent life. That is how pure she was.

_Unlike him._

As much at it pains him, he made himself swear that he would make no move to be in her good graces. _It will protect her,_Draco reminded himself fiercely. _A little sacrifice is in order. Her life will be on the line if I don't restrain myself._

All of these thoughts occurred to him when he didn't even get the chance to talk to her. He didn't even get the chance to get to know her better. He didn't even know if it's possible to get closer to her.

_I would get her back soon enough,_he assured himself. _I would get her back._

Draco repeated his mantra until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

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><p><strong>AN: ** Tell me what you think of this chapter. It's more than two thousand words so I think you have something to say. (don't you? *winks*)

Lyrics for this chapter is from A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. The true inspiration for this fic :') (I love it so much *sobs*)

And remember, **no reviews = no updates!** *smirks*

Given the number of how many users are subscribed to me/my story, I **know** it can happen. _Until the next chapter, my loves. xo_


	5. In Another Life

**A Thousand Years**

by:** Starborn Angel**

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling owns all the characters and Ann Brashares inspired the creation of this story.

**A/N: **Here's the promised chapter - thanks to everyone who reviewed. I hope you like this one, it's a bit shorter than the other chapters though. (No, it's not revenge over the fact that you guys failed to give me my reviews last chapter. *pouts* I told myself, 'Well, at least you got half of what you asked for'.)

I remembered that I came here because I _love _writing. Not because of reviews. But I would love it if you tell me what you think, though. _Please? _*smiles* It just makes me feel appreciated if you leave me a review. :3

**I command you. Mehehehe.**

Anyway, thank you to my ever understanding beta, independentwriter-137. Now, on to the chapter.

**Chapter Four : In Another Life**

**Constantinople, 1061**

_In another life, I would make you stay__  
><em>_So I don't have to say you we're__  
><em>_The one that got away_

I will skip ahead to my third life, which was in the great empire of Constantinople. In this life, I was raised by a single parent and had five other siblings. You can just imagine how hard that life was. Worst of all, I was a muggle.

I started working hard at the tender age of eleven. It was the time when I waited for the letter that didn't come via owl post.

I was not a wizard.

I didn't have magical blood, and it greatly bothered me at the time. That's why in my next lives, I learned the feeling of how to have magic in your veins and how it felt not to have it. I didn't want to wait for that blasted Hogwarts letter and get disappointment instead. I learned how to feel what's in my blood, so to speak. I would know if I was a wizard or not the moment I start to remember. But sadly, it was not the case in this life. I had to learn the hard way.

But as I grew old, I got accustomed to it. Nothing else to do, really - just waiting for the end of this life in order to start over again. I hoped to all the deities that in my next life, I would be a wizard.

I was 13 years old that one summer evening when I saw her again. I wasn't completely certain, but I believed that it was truly her. The girl in England two lives ago. I have never forgotten her.

Recognizing souls is a bit disconcerting. I did not know how exactly I have done it, but she looks very familiar. It felt like you saw a friend that you didn't see or talk to in the last fifty years. It felt like that. It seems like she came back earlier than me, since she looked about twenty five years old. She either died very young in her previous life or that it's her first time to come back after she was murdered in England.

My blood boiled at the thought.

In my life in England almost seventy years ago, I visited her grave every week and constantly thought about her. I was too late to save the girl - but still, I thought about her. I prayed that she would have peace wherever she went - I didn't know that after a person dies, he would most likely live again, but as another person. If I knew this, I would have searched for her. But now I knew better.

I frequently thought that this was precisely why I didn't get married in my first and second life. I simply wasn't interested in any other woman, except when physical nature calls. It's not my fault that the stubborn woman I had taken interest in was dead.

I was wandering aimlessly on the noisy streets of the city when I got hit by a rushing chariot. I felt my ribs crack, and I was almost blinded with pain. I rolled over to my good side as I clutched my broken ribs. My head was bleeding and I was dizzy. I had trouble breathing… this cannot be good.

"Oh, gods! What have you done?" She screamed at her guard. "He's just a child!" Her voice sounded so familiar. I heard rather than saw the young woman dismount the chariot and curse her guard. She ran to where I was lying, curled up in pain.

I felt her rub my back. "I'm so sorry," she told me in elegant Greek. She was sobbing. Why is she crying? Do I look _that _bad? I opened my eyes very slowly, and I stiffened. It was her. It was Margoux.

Margoux pierced my dark blue eyes with her own green ones as she grieved. She looked beautiful. She is healthy, and she is prosperous. Margoux lived again. She does not look like the girl in England, but it was the same girl. She was still crying, her eyes a round and beautiful shade of green. She had blond hair in this life, and her face was wet with tears. "Help! Somebody, help us!" She looked at the growing crowd, pleading. They silently shook their heads. "Look for his family," she pleaded again. "Fetch his mother; anyone, please..."

I couldn't stand the sight of her in so much suffering. I felt like I should comfort her, so I did. "Don't cry," I whispered. "Do you remember me?" My lungs burned with each breath.

I saw her again after seventy years, and I was dying. I felt the hardship of my lungs. The rib must've punctured it. Oh no, no, no, no. I can't go _now. _"Margoux," I managed to croak out.

Margoux looked at me curiously, through her tears. "I'm afraid you are mistaken..." She trailed off.

I felt a stab of pain that had nothing to do with my injuries.

_She didn't remember._

I can see people gathering around us, making it even harder to breathe. I hear them say, "He's not going to make it," over and over again. My eyes watered in denial, as I wanted to get to know her better. _Who knows if I'll ever see her again? How will I let her know who I was?_

I am suddenly sorry that I wished to die immediately in this life, as the elderly say: 'Be careful what you wish for.'

"I'm sorry!" I said in English. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you from him."

Margoux let out a wail. I repeated again what I said in Ancient Greek. She shook her head, saying that she was the one who should be sorry.

_So this is how it goes, _I chided. _Now I'm the one who can't be saved._

She looked so agonized and I just wanted to take her pain away. I guess that very first encounter made me her protector. Even in misery, her green eyes pierced me to my very soul.

And those were the last things I saw.

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><p><strong>AN: **So, how did that one go? Leave me reviews! They make me more inspired. I'd love to hear from you. The song lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from Katy Perry's song, 'The One That Got Away'.

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><p><strong><em>- Shameless Promotion -<em>**

Do check out my new story, _Hermione's Classic Dilemma_, and tell me what you think!

Ciao, loves. xo


	6. The Devil's Angel

**A Thousand Years**

by: **Starborn Angel**

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling owns all the characters and Ann Brashares inspired the creation of this story.

**A/N: **Sorry for the rather long break on updates… I will try to post at least once a week (or even earlier if I get a lot of reviews). Thanks to my beta, independentwriter-137 - you're the best! Please, reward me with your reviews. I love them so much. *smiles kindly*

**Chapter Five:** The Devil's Angel

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1992

_I feel so lonely, time goes slowly__  
><em>Have to see your face like I've never had before<em>  
><em>No sleep at night, without you by my side<em>  
><em>Got to feel your touch like I've never had before<em>_

She didn't know him well.

After that _encounter_ in the Great Hall last year, he never looked her way again. If she wasn't mistaken… he was avoiding her. One minute he was glaring daggers at her and the next he was ignoring her. Hermione heard his name during the sorting - Draco Malfoy. _I think I heard that name from somewhere, _she mused. But she didn't give him any thought since then. _Sort of._

She snuck a peak to the right corner of the classroom to find his shiny blond head and his brow furrowed in concentration. He was much like her, she thought sometimes. Malfoy was smart, bossy, and would not back down on a challenge. He knew he was intelligent because he was second only to her in all classes. But the down side was he was _such _a bully.

Hermione shook her head and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear in annoyance. For Merlin's sake! She should not be thinking about a bully. She should not think about him, period! And while taking an exam, no less. _Focus, _she ordered herself, and continued taking her exam.

After Transfiguration, she grabbed her book bag and trudged down to flights of stairs to go to her Potions class in the dungeons. She wiped her brow in effort. Merlin, her books _were_ really heavy…

She stumbled a bit at the last step and held onto a post before she could fall over. Hermione groaned and shifted the weight of her book bag onto her left shoulder from her right. _This is going to be a long day, _she thought. Huffing, she pushed on.

Upon reaching the end of the hall, she heard someone's footsteps a few feet behind and she stopped walking. Hermione could feel the person staring holes into the back of her skull. It was not a pleasant sensation. Goosebumps rose on the back of her neck and her forearms.

Someone seems to be following her… she tensed visibly and whirled around to face the culprit with narrowed eyes.

She sighed in exasperation.

_You think of the devil, and he appears._

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><p><em>It's been a year<em>, Draco thought absently. _It's been a year and I still haven't spoken a single word to her.__  
><em>  
>Not for lack of wanting, mind you. He was so miserable inside that he often brooded in self-pity. Draco stared at the mirror and frowned at his rather haggard reflection. He looked at the shadows forming under his eyes from lack of sleep as he ran his fingers through his silk-like blond hair. Another year of waiting and wanting.<p>

Draco got his book bag and slung it over his shoulder and started walking to the Potions classroom, lost in thought. _It's better to see her alive than dead because of me_, he reminded himself. _At least she was doing alright_. Draco sighed.

_This is torture, _he mused frequently. _She's so close…yet so far._

_Well, there's no harm in one conversation, right? _The voice he called the 'devil' told him.

He sighed in frustration. _Here I go again._

Margoux never looked his way, he noted. Not since when he blatantly stared at her for ten straight minutes at the welcoming feast last year. The staring had earned him a murderous glare from her, and he tried not to flinch visibly. When the tension was too much, he was forced to lower his gaze. _Maybe she remembered me this time?_

He did not dare to keep his hopes up.

Draco heard shuffling near end of the hall and stopped dead in his tracks. He watched Margoux as she clutched her book bag heavily while walking along the corridor to the classroom. _Merlin, at this rate, her back will be completely hunched come graduation. _He shook his head. He never knew this kind of Margoux before.

He didn't really know if he actually knew her.

_I really should stop calling her Margoux, _he thought again. Draco remembered his frequent slip-ups over his past lives, calling her Margoux by accident instead of her given name. Those encounters didn't go well.

_Her name is…Hermione._

And as if he said his beloved's name out loud, she turned her head to look at his direction with eyes narrowed into slits. She must have thought that he was following her. _Damn it. _His breath hitched when she suddenly half-ran, half-walked towards his direction and pointed her wand to his face. Draco arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at the witch. _Feisty, this one, _he thought, a little amused.

"Are you _following _me?" Hermione asked crisply, her eyes boring into his very soul. She seems to be in a foul mood.

"I assure you, I will not be following anyone around, much less a filthy mudblood," He drawled back, trying not to wince visibly because of the insult.

Draco saw Hermione's eyes flash with anger and with something like... pain. Her arm shook slightly and her wand let out little sparks because of her anger. Draco noticed that she was debating with herself whether to hex him to oblivion or not.

_I wish she would, _he thought to himself. _I want this over with._

The tension was getting thicker and neither said a word. Moments passed by and the pair heard their classmates chattering at the end of the hall and Hermione lowered her wand. She looked at him with what it seemed like disgust and turned away from him, not looking back.

Draco relaxed visibly but his mind and heart were racing. _Why did I do that? _He asked himself, as his classmates passed him by to go to their Potions class. They shot him odd looks; probably thinking why in the bloody hell is he standing at the middle of the corridor with a pained look on his face.

_Why did I always have to hurt her?_

When he hurts her, he gets hurt. So why in Merlin's name does he do it?

It's because he hates her. At least, that's what he thinks. Draco experienced so much hurt in all of his lives that was mostly caused by his love for her. And what does he get from it? It was _consuming _him. It was so unfair.

Margoux… Hermione… was so happy. She could be happy without him and it irked him to no end. She could get married and have kids, without even sparing him a glance, because she didn't remember what they had. Unlike him, whenever he lived again, the search for her continues…

He started walking again, but his mind was in another place.

_I hate you, Hermione._

Draco wanted to punch a wall, or better yet, he wanted to punch Pothead and Weasel for being so close to Hermione, when she won't even lay her eyes on him. And when she does, she always wore a glare or a look of dislike. He was so angry he was shaking. Draco's fists were clenched almost painfully, and he could feel his palms' skin breaking - enough to draw blood.

He was pulled out of his reverie when he saw Potter and Weasley whispering animatedly. He smirked at the excellent timing. All he had to do was draw out a couple of insults and he knew they'd be brawling in no time. Draco knew it'll be two against one but for a Slytherin, he wasn't that afraid of two twelve year old boys. He almost grinned at the thought. _As if I'm not a twelve year old, myself_. He had a thousand years of experience with fighting and killing, and if that didn't help him beat the crap out of them, he didn't know what could.

Draco was about to sneer at them when he heard the words "birthday" and "surprise". He raised an eyebrow in annoyance. _Gryffindors, _he sniffed. _As if they could be sneaky and stealthy about what they're planning, ha!_

Unable to help himself (as he was deathly bored), he followed them quietly on to the way to the classroom, him trailing behind the pair about three feet away, just enough to listen in on their conversation.

"…she's gonna love it," the Weasel said, almost too giddily.

"I know," Potty whispered back. "She really needs a break from all that studying. And she thinks we didn't remember her birthday," he said, making a disbelieving sound. "Fat chance!"

Draco's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. He decided to talk to her for the first time, insulting her at that… on her _birthday_?

Muttering an oath that would surely make his mother scrub out his mouth with soap, his face darkened with added despair as he went back to the other direction, unable to face Hermione again for the rest of the day.

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><p>Hermione got back into her dormitory in a blur of robes right after Potions class. Ron and Harry were almost too keen on ignoring her. Today, of all days. She couldn't be with her parents on her twelfth birthday, and now her friends are ignoring her. Not to mention that encounter with Malfoy. Thank Merlin the dormitory was empty when she got there, as she just wanted a good cry and didn't want an audience. Wiping her already wet eyes, she flopped into her bed with unnecessary force. She sniffled a little, but remembering that the door was still open, she locked it with her wand and silenced it for good measure.<p>

She decided that she was to lie down on her bed without even bothering to change out of her robes. _Some birthday this was, _she sulked. Hermione started to slide under the covers when something pricked her hand. "Ouch!" She said as she violently jerked away from the bed, looking at her injured palm to see that the sharp thing had brought out blood.

Hermione frowned. "What?" She murmured suspiciously as she lifted the covers in one swift motion.

There were two breathtaking roses. One thorn was stained with her blood. _That must be it_, she thought. _Who would have the heart to give her such a sweet gift?_

Her blood reminded her of Malfoy's insult. _Mudblood_, he had said. But Hermione looked at the little red droplet and thought, _we have the same blood. It's not mud, it's not dirty. It's all the same..__._

Shaking the thought away, she continued to examine her presents. The roses have huge petals; they were colored red on the tips but the rest of the petal remained white.

It was like they were dipped in blood.

Hermione shuddered and took a step back. Sweat started to form on the nape of her neck as her heart hammered in her chest. _Who would leave these?_

Whipping out her wand, she murmured a spell that could reveal any dark nature of an object, and she found the roses to be only charmed to keep them fresh. Hermione let out a sigh of relief and reached out to grab one of them by their stem, taking a whiff of the fresh flowers. It was almost dizzying, she was intoxicated by the smell. It smelled of roses, yes, but with something else… like peppermint and the subtle scent of cucumber…

Hermione's eyes snapped open as she took in this minute detail. It was the scent of the person who sent it to her. "Who?" She asked again to no one in particular.

She was startled to see that there was a note attached to the rose. Hermione's heart leapt up to her throat in anticipation. _Who could it be?_

'_Happy Birthday, Hermione_' was written in a neat script in the small note. She was disappointed to see that the note contained no signature, and that she did not recognize the handwriting. It must've been charmed. She grabbed the other rose to find that there is also a small note there.

'_This is for last year,_' it said.

Hermione felt warmth spread through her system and a blush crept on her cheeks. _This person… whoever he or she is... was making up for her birthday last year._

Seconds later her mind was filled with questions. Who could it be? How did he know my birthday? Is it a he or a she? It's probably a because it would be odd if it would be a girl. But not that she minded. She'd hug this person, boy or girl, the moment she knew who it was.

With a smile, Hermione decided not to sulk anymore. She took a whiff of both of the roses and reveled at the intensity of their scent_. They really smelled lovely,_ she thought absently. Hermione flicked her wand and charmed the roses to not lose their scent, and lightly transferred some of the perfume into her robes and skin.

And with that, Hermione kept her gifts on a secret compartment she had on her trunk and made up her mind to go to the library instead of moping around in her dormitory.

Carrying her heavy book bag, she unlocked the door with her wand and lifted the silencing spell, only to be greeted by her friends with fierce hugs and a huge birthday cake.

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><p><strong>AN:**I really enjoyed writing this so I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. Please leave me reviews, I'd love to hear from you.

The slightly modified lyrics (modified because it sounded way too hiphop) on top of the chapter is from the song 'Running on Empty' by Chrishan and Auburn. It's the soundtrack for this chapter ;)

And oh, check out my other story! Until next time. xo


	7. The Lost and Dazed

**A Thousand Years**

By:** Starborn Angel**

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, JK Rowling owns every character.

_It's alright _

_And it's nice not to be so alone_

_But I hold on to your secrets_

_In white houses_

**Chapter Six: The Lost and Dazed**

**Syracuse, Sicily, 1065**

It wasn't long before I got back - about approximately four years from the day I last met Margoux. Life doesn't end forever, remember that. I don't know if there really is eternal life waiting for us all, and I have yet to meet God. All I know is that if you have an extreme desire to come back, you would.

Sometimes you just wake up and know what you want, and I will not hesitate to tell you that I came back for her.

She is like an addiction, a deadly drug. I felt as though all this time, I have never gotten my fill. I just keep wandering and searching. At times, I feel like giving up - but when I wake up the next morning, I know it's because of my desire to look for Margoux.

I was beginning to call her 'The Lost Girl' in my mind, but I knew it won't do me any good. When I was four, I was telling my elder brother about her - the lost girl - and he scoffed at me bitterly, saying, "You should stop your imagination from going wild. Most people with that kind of thinking go to the crack house." I left him confused and mortified as ever, trembling with fear that if he told our father, he might actually leave me in the nuthouse.

The memories were coming back again, but I hoped to all the deities that I will be ready this time around.

At a fresh age of seven years old, I was having troubles with my dreams. Once, my mother took me to the market with her and I walked off without her noticing; just to see if I could find my way back to the place where I last saw Margoux. She was rich then - was she still doing fine now, moneywise? A few years ago, she looked almost 25 – was she betrothed to anyone? A chief, perhaps, to suit her economic standing in this life? Did she have a child? I had hundreds of questions, with only my small mind for company.

Here in Syracuse, my parents were humble merchants, but they did not know that their son had a dream. I wanted to become a warrior for the king. Our warriors were the toughest in the land - or so we believed. I wanted to be just like them, I once thought as I saw them pass by the piazza. They had the money, the fame, and the women. I was blinded by my greed, and I did not even know it until it hit me square on the face.

Maybe I was tired of my own self, my mindless dreaming, searching and scraping the world for a mysterious woman that has yet to know of my existence. I wanted to forget her, and my determination was like an unquenchable fire in my heart. What better way to forget pent up emotions than to release it physically? I knew my rage and frustration would not be extinguished until I was satisfied that I have moved on.

At 15, I blindly signed up for the war against whoever the king wanted us to battle this time - I wasn't really paying attention - and it landed me a job of guarding the king's court because I was too young. I was very frustrated at the time, but I let it be. I would have my time soon, I thought.

In the king's court was where I first met my good friend Daniel.

Daniel isn't your usual boy. I am speculating that he had lived for a while - and I meant a really long while. We met when he was guarding the gates of the court and I was sent to fetch the horses needed for the king's journey. He looked about 16 - but he was frail for his age. His eyes had this glazed look upon them, like his mind was anywhere but the present.

As I approached the gates, his eyes snapped awake and I felt like he was burning holes through my skull as he scrutinized me. I cleared my throat and said, "Do we have a problem?" in Italian.

He shook his head saying no and he hastily opened the gate for me. As I pulled on the king's horse and slipped inside, I still felt those piercing brown eyes at the back of my head. I shrugged him off, slightly having a bad feeling about the dazed boy and continued on my way.

When the sun had set and all were retreating to their designated stations for the night, I came across the dazed boy. He said, "It's not easy, is it?" in a solemn tone.

I stiffened. What was he on about? "I do not get what you mean," I replied curtly.

"Of course you do," he said back just as solemnly. "You have something that they don't have, and it's not easy for you."

My breath hitched in my throat. It's impossible that he knew… "I honestly do not understand," I tried to side-step him. But he blurted it out, anyway.

His lips twitched in what I perceived as amusement. "You remember, but that's alright. I do, too."

My jaw dropped to the floor and I let out an undignified gasp. "You… you know? How?" I asked him and he did not respond. That was the first time I learned that Daniel never answered questions directly. He has a mystical aura to him, an odd way of doing things. "Have you met a lot of us, then?" I said again, sighing when he did not reply to my previous questions.

"Not a lot, but some," he murmured back, his eyes dazed again as he went on his way.

"Wait," I called, and he turned his head to face me slightly. "Is it possible for the normal person - normal being not like us - to remember?"

"Depends on how desperate they are to remember," he answered with a knowing glint in his brown eyes.

I huffed with impatience and shook my head, feeling confused. I knew if I approached him and fired him with questions, wouldn't respond. Looking around to see if our superiors were out of sight, I decided to take a walk around the king's estate.

I crossed the bridge going to the king's farmyard to find a young woman there. I bit my tongue from chuckling out of respect as she slipped gracelessly in the mud pit near the horses' stable, barely stifling a scream.

I simply could not fight myself from shaking my head amusedly at her ridiculous appearance, her short brown hair sticking up in all places and her porcelain face slightly smeared by dirt. Her rather hideous servant's dress was covered in brown splatters of water and soil as she glanced down on it with the slightest bit of disgust.

The young woman looked up to see my lips bent with mirth and I froze, my eyes now wide and my mouth ajar. She gave me a confused look as she picked herself from the muddy ground and looked me straight at my dark blue eyes - the same shade of irises I had back in Constantinople.

"I…I know you." She whispered and her dainty hand was on her chest. The young woman was slightly shaking with nervousness.

For the second time that night, I was completely floored. I swallowed the lump in my throat and grinded my teeth to keep from stuttering. "You do?" I asked, out of sheer curiosity.

"I…I'm not so sure," she murmured. "I think I do, but I don't know why," she said, her uncertainty marring her stunning features.

Hope bubbled inside my chest. Did she really?

"It can't be…" she trailed off, saying it more to herself than me. "Your eyes… I'm sorry, it must be a mistake," she said, running off to the opposite direction, her boots splattering mud everywhere.

"Please, wait!" I called, taking off after her, my sandals slapping onto wet soil. I was panting already but my legs were definitely longer than hers so I caught up with her within moments. I glanced at her, still stubbornly running even though I was almost at her tail, and saw that she was crying. I nearly stopped with confusion but I charged on to keep up with her pace.

Finally she stopped at the nearby oak tree and sat down in a heap of mud and limbs. My own chest heaved with exhaustion and I sat by beside her. Not too close, but close enough to give her personal space. It was not accepted to be alone with a woman, and a servant at that. But seeing her face, I couldn't give a damn about the norms.

"I don't understand you," I panted, trying to make conversation. "Telling me that you know me and running away from me."

She shook her head at me. "I didn't know what else to do. It was impossible that it's you, but if it is you, I might just lose my head," she replied, wiping the sweat out of her brow and taking huge gulps of much wanted air.

"What do you mean by that? Do you always speak cryptically?" I inquired, silently begging her to tell me how she knew me.

As expected, the silence stretched on and eventually our breaths have calmed. The servant girl and I looked up to see the sky had gone completely dark. I was astonished. Had it not been just the sunset mere minutes ago? How time flies.

"How do you know me?" I pressed when she didn't speak.

"A dream," she mumbled and a blush colored her cheeks. "Forgive me, dear warrior, a servant should not be speaking to her masters. I must be going. Never mention this again," she told me in a hushed tone, and proceeded to stand up. "The mistress is calling."

I stared at her with doubt. I knew the mind plays tricks in your unconscious, but knowing a person from a past cycle? Is that fate's way of punishing me for the rest of my miserable life?

I was unable to say anything and she sliced the silence with a whisper. "We will meet again," she said as turned her back to me and answered her hidden mistress's calls. I was left alone by that tree for minutes, hours, I didn't know. I was lost in my thoughts and my flowing emotions, and I wanted to be left alone.

I wanted to forget her so badly I didn't realize that I still have a chance to find her at any time and any place. I did not think this would happen, since she could be anywhere around the world. I wasn't even sure if she was able to come back.

And there she was.

The lost girl - she had been found again.

And she remembered me.

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><p><strong>AN:** Sorry for the long wait! Life caught up with me and decided to drag me out of my internet life. Song above is White Houses by Vanessa Carlton. Hope you enjoyed this. Thank you independentwriter-137 for the beta work. Read and review!


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